Dark Encounter
by SAI1
Summary: Who is that figure, walking along on the other side of the street? Why has his past seemed to have charred and forged him? What happened to him? Where did he come from? A school assignment turned oneshot.


**Welcome, everyone! Here is a quick oneshot that was originally a class assignment: a sort of sketch, but writing style, if you will. Rated K+ for some violence. R&amp;R and enjoy!**

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**Dark Encounter**

It happened when I was going to pick my brother up from school, walking down the street. The skyscrapers towered above me, the dense crowd and overcast sky making it harder to see. And that was when I saw him. He was across the street, going in the opposite direction I was, sort of blending in with everyone else… except for one little thing. A sheathed sword hung at his side.

Why would he have a sword?

He walked smoothly and efficiently, keeping his head tilted slightly downward and unmoving. He was about a head taller than average, with dull dark brown hair, whipping at around ear level. There was something about him that unnerved me. Was it his dark jacket, the sword, or maybe how he walked? I stared at him so intently, trying to figure it out, that I almost walked into a couple people, though the crowd had begun to thin.

As he got closer, he walked past an alleyway. Out of nowhere, two men, suddenly leaped out at him, wielding a metal baseball bat and some sort of gun. It looked like they wanted to drag him into the alley and take his possessions. Perhaps his sword looked like it could sell for a large sum. A few people noticed and quickly backed up, while others remained oblivious. There were a few screams. I blinked, and suddenly the two of them were on the ground, the gun was skittering across to my side of the street, and the man was sheathing his sword, continuing on his way. No one seemed very hurt.

At this point, almost everyone within a twenty-foot radius backed up as fast as they could, some swarming around or leaping over slow-moving cars. I stopped walking entirely. What was this? The guy was incredibly fast.

One of the muggers fired curses at him, picking up the bat, while the other ran across the street for his gun. The first one rushed him from behind, raising the bat for a hard blow, while the other guy pointed his gun. The man continued walking, still with his head slightly lowered. Just before the mugger started his swing, the man's sword seemingly appeared in his hand as he spun with a mad hack at the bat itself—not the man—and the force was so strong that it cleaved the bat cleanly in two, also flying through a street sign with a shriek and a groan . As he spun, our eyes momentarily made contact, and I was shocked by what I saw.

I was shocked by the intelligence, the deadliness, and, most surprisingly, the pain. He was much more complicated than the muggers, and much more dangerous. His eyes looked like they had once been like a warm brown chocolate bar that had since been torn to show jagged, injured edges.

But that was in the background now. The mugger that had just tried to attack him now held little more than a stick as he stumbled back from the blast . The second guy was standing where he had picked up the gun, holding it up at arm's length, taking aim, but by then the man was aware of it and actively avoiding the spot where the gun was pointing, even as the mugger adjusted his aim.

The next events seemed to happen in slow motion. I saw the mugger's eyes sharpen, his finger tightening on the trigger, saw the man abruptly lean back, even as his feet prepared to spring forward, saw the terrified eyes of the spectators, mouths open wide to scream. The gun crack-boomed , a flash of flame appearing, but the bullet missed and made a small burst of debris leap out of the wall. The mugger adjusted his aim as the man charged, firing again. The shot took the sign off the top of a taxi. When the man was almost on top of him, the man actually blocked the last shot it with his sword and dealt a hard kick that left the mugger unconscious on the ground. His companion charged across the street with the street sign held in front of him like a lance .

By this time, the police had found out about this, so they started to stream in down the sidewalk, yelling. The man, seeing this, was momentarily distracted, dodging the sign at the last moment. It ripped off his jacket, though, revealing odd scars on his arms. Some looked like deep cuts, others like a squid had somehow gotten hold of him, and still others were crisscrossing lines—scar after scar after scar , overlapping and interweaving. He slashed through the sign like he had with the bat, his sword catching the light and becoming a shining streak . He dealt a blow with the butt of his sword that left his opponent on the ground as well. The police rushed forward, shouting at him to stop and put his hands up.

And that was when he did something else amazing. Instead of complying, he turned to the building next to me, which was under construction or something and had a plaster wall. He used the pommel of his sword to punch holes in it, using them as handholds and footholds to quickly scale the wall. In seconds, he had disappeared over the top.

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**For those of you who are puzzled about why this story is not progressing or anything, or why it starts and ends so abruptly, that is on purpose and this story is complete. Once again, a quick oneshot. Thank you all, and good night.**


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